


At the End of the Day

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-wing Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Overworking, Sleepiness, contextless hurt/comfort, whatever you call writing letters to the families of people who died under your command
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:06:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9435416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Wedge is overworking himself trying to deal with a tragedy. Tycho intervenes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this basically near-contextless Wedge/Tycho hurt/comfort that's been languishing on my hard drive for awhile. I have a feeling it could fit into the X-wing novels somewhere with minor editing, but it's been years since I read them, and with my current mission to read All The Rebellion+ Era Legends, it's gonna be a while before I get to them again. Basically, have this as is, yeah? :)

Wedge hardly hears the door to his office; he only realizes the intrusion when Tycho's voice interrupts him: “You're still here?”

He tears his eyes away from the datapad and looks up, blinking a few times as his eyes adjust to the dimmer light of the room. Tycho is half-frowning at him, arms crossed over his chest, blonde hair mussed as if he's on his way to bed – or already been there. “I'm working,” Wedge tells him, turning back to his desk.

He hears the other man come up behind him. “It's nearly midnight.”

“I know,” Wedge says, glancing at his chrono. He hadn't.

“This isn't good for you, and I know you know it,” Tycho sighs. “You need rest.”

“I need to get my work done.”

Tycho's hands land on his shoulders. “I know what you're doing,” he says softly, “and I don't think it's helping. I-”

“I have things to do,” Wedge interrupts, trying to shake him off. “I have condolence letters to write, new pilots to choose, equipment to replace. That's what I'm doing.” He stares pointedly at the datapad, tapping a few buttons.

Tycho won't be put off. He squeezes Wedge's shoulders gently. “I know you've lost pilots before, but never on this level, never so many under your command. I know how much that's bothering you, but burying yourself in work isn't going to bring any of them back. And it wasn't your fault.”

“I know that.” Wedge slumps under Tycho's hands, feels them warm and strong on him. “That doesn't mean I can't still see every second of the battle and hear them...” He sighs shakily, feels Tycho slip the datapad from his hands and presses them, now empty, over his face.

Tycho rubs his shoulders. “I know it's hard, but I also know we've both gone through this before, and we will again. And I know how strong you are. You'll get through this, too, and you won't let it hold you back.” His voice softens. “In fact, I think it may make you a better commander and strategist once you're out the other side.”

Wedge laughs mirthlessly. “You're probably right.”

“But for now...” Tycho squeezes his shoulders once more before coaxing him to turn his chair around. “Come to bed, Wedge.”

Wedge looks up at him, soft hazel eyes dimmed with all the emotions he's feeling, and it cuts right to Tycho's soul to see him going through this, but he meant every word he said. He wordlessly holds out a hand, and Wedge levers himself up – only to have his legs immediately go out from under him.

Tycho manages to catch and steady him before he hits the floor. “Easy. Just exactly how long have you been sitting here, anyway?”

Wedge turns sheepish. “I haven't exactly been keeping track. Long enough for the old legs to take issue, I guess.”

Tycho rolls his eyes. “I never expected to be telling you how you need to take care of yourself.” Before Wedge can respond, Tycho sweeps him up into his arms.

Wedge squeaks and grabs onto him. “What are you doing? I'm not a bride in need of carrying over the threshold.”

“No, but you are my partner, and you need support right now,” Tycho tells him. A moment passes between them where they both understand the double meaning of the words. Wedge gives in silently and tucks his face against Tycho's neck. The blonde smiles and brushes his lips over the other man's hair. “Now, let's get you to a bed.”

“I'm liking more and more the sound of that,” Wedge mutters without moving, and Tycho laughs softly as he moves toward the door.


End file.
